


Discord in Triad

by zoemathemata



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doppelganger, Evil Twins, M/M, Voyeurism, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemathemata/pseuds/zoemathemata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What you need to know for the PWP to make sense: Evil!Cas and Evil!Dean have punched through from another universe and need to make Cas fall of his own free will, and fall hard, in order to free Lucifer in their universe. Evil!Dean has taken over Dean’s life. Of course. Don’t you hate when that happens?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discord in Triad

“He’ll know. He’ll know right away it’s not me.” Dean’s confident, sure.

Other Cas leans into Dean’s face. Leans _way_ in. Too close. Dark blue eyes boring into his. Dean’s eyes flicker back and forth as Castiel’s roam over his face, taking a long lingering look at Dean’s lips. Castiel licks his own. Dean turns his head to the side, feigns boredom. Castiel takes that as an opportunity to put his soft lips right up to Dean’s ear.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think he’ll care even if he does figure it out.” His breath is hot and damp on Dean’s ear, his lips just barely brushing against the sensitive cartilage. It shouldn’t make him feel anything other than disgust, fear, anger, _wrong_. Shouldn’t.

 _Doesn’t._

“What the fuck are you yammering about?” He doesn’t think he wants to know. They say ignorance is bliss for a reason, don’t they? He forces himself to look back at Other Cas.

“I think,” Castiel moves closer and dramatically straddles Dean’s legs and then sits in his lap and Dean flinches. He’s surprised by the heat and the weight. The closeness. Despite all his issues with personal space, his Cas, _Dean’s_ Cas has never, ever been this close and now with Other Cas resting his full weight on Dean… It’s seven kinds of wrong but he can’t help for a split second thinking about what would happen if he and Cas…

Other Cas places his forearms on Dean’s shoulders and tips his head in close. “My Dean,” and fuck if that doesn’t annoy Dean they way Castiel forces the possessive pronoun, “is going to give your angel exactly what he wants but doesn’t know how to ask for.” He grinds his hips against Dean’s cruelly and Dean can feel the bones of his hip sockets scraping against each other.

“What?” he can hear the tremor in that one word and hates it.

“The way he looks at you, all longing and puppy dog eyes and Dean, Dean, Dean, all the time. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” murmurs Other Cas. He drops his head and nuzzles against Dean’s neck, his nose rubbing up and down over the pulse point and Dean can’t think straight because it looks like Cas ( _except for how it's wearing jeans and cowboy boots and a black t-shirt that looks as soft as its skin_ ) and it sounds like Cas ( _except for how Cas would never say these things_ ) and it even fucking smells like Cas. Like ozone and summer rain and spicy nighttime air. “You should hear what he thinks about you.” He makes a soft tsk-tsk sound with this teeth and tongue. “Fucking filthy.”

“You’re fucking insane. He’s an angel.” Because isn’t that what he’s always telling himself when his mind starts sliding sideways about Cas? _Angel_. Angel of the Lord. Thinking about him that way is a one way ticket back to Hell. Express style.

Other Cas mouths at his clavicle and Dean looks up and clenches his jaw. Wrong, bad, _not Cas_.

“ _I’m_ an Angel and you should see what I think about.” He hums against Dean’s collarbone. “You even taste like my Dean.” He pauses thoughtfully, one hand cradling Dean’s neck, the other tracing circles on his hip-bone. “I bet my Dean will think your angel tastes like me.”

It makes him see red and he doesn’t even think about it as he snarls and tries to bite, literally bite Other Cas. The angel’s hand clamps down painfully on his jaw, holding it in place without struggling and Dean forgets sometimes, he forgets how strong Castiel is. Cas squeezes. Tendons strain, bones crunch and Dean will have finger shaped bruises on his jaw tomorrow. If he’s alive tomorrow.

“Careful.” His mouth is millimeters from Dean, lips ghosting over in tickling touches as he talks. “You break it, you buy it.”

“Go to hell.”

Cas smiles and it’s all feral teeth and leering grin. “Not this time, thanks, I’m bringing hell to me.” His eyes drift off to the side for a second, a longing look on his face. “I bet my Dean is having a much better time with your angel than I’m having with you.” He sighs. “The things that boy can do with his tongue…” Castiel’s eyes turn back to Dean’s, boring straight into him with laser-like precision. “Although, I suppose you could give him a run for his money.”

He rocks his hips against Dean’s pelvis and Dean clenches his jaw and looks away. Other Cas’ tongue darts out and licks up the side of Dean’s ear, tracing the outer edge and Dean thinks about those rabbits on the animal channel, how they freeze, they just lock into place, perfectly still as if that can save them. And it must be some kind of animal reflex because he’s doing it too. He’s never been so still in his life. He’s never worried about himself that way before. Sure, his life has been in danger, that’s his job. But his, (and this truly does make him laugh on the inside in a painful, cutting way) his _virtue_ is not something he’s ever been concerned with. He’s strong and a good fighter, a _great_ fighter and he can make pretty much anything at hand into a weapon, including his own body if necessary. He’s never been concerned physically that he can be overpowered by another guy. He doesn’t take drinks from strangers and he never take drugs.

He thinks of his dad, all awkward and hesitant, not a look he wore often or well, sitting him down when he was thirteen. They sat at the kitchen table and his dad nervously glanced around for a bit before finally nodding once, like something had been decided and then he spoke plainly. _You gotta be careful, Dean.~ I am careful, sir. ~ No, Dean, I mean extra careful. You’re a good lookin’ boy. You look like your mother, and some… some men might want to take advantage of you. ~I don’t know what you …. ~And dad had looked at him, with_ ‘the look’. _And he suddenly got it. Oh. ~Yes, sir. ~You be careful. You don’t have to be paranoid, but you gotta be careful. ~Yes, sir. I will._

And it’s fucking ridiculous because _Angel of the Lord_ and how was he supposed to be careful about that.

He’s holding himself like a statue. Hard marble and harder edges. Castiel chuckles, low and throaty and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard that sound before. It makes the angel’s body bob up and down slightly and Dean winces. _Don’t look at him, don’t look, don’t look._

“Aw, you’re a little shy aren’t you?” The words are pushed into his ear on another puff of hot damp air. Other Cas’ hand comes up around his neck and holds his skull easily in one strong grip, forcing his head to turn around and face him. Dean keeps his eyes firmly slanted to one side. The angel’s other hand cards through Dean’s hair almost lovingly and it feels gross and dirty.

“Shy Dean is not a game we play often, but I love it when we do. Shy Dean is so much fun. So nervous and timid at first. But then when the game gets going…” He rolls his hips hard and it hurts. Dean can feel the angel’s growing erection pressed against his groin and he can’t help the frisson of fear that spikes through his belly. “One of my favorite games.” Castiel sighs.

He yanks Dean’s head back, exposing the skin of the neck and bites down hard. Dean feels the skin break. Human teeth are not made for cutting and it’s painful. It’s more painful than getting stabbed because his teeth are dull and there’s the intent behind it. The sick, dirty promise of worse to come.

“Don’t be scared,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s throat. “I won’t hurt you much. And my Dean loves it when I hurt him. You’ll love it too.”

“Don’t you two look pretty?”

Dean’s not relieved to open his eyes and look over Castiel’s shoulder and see his other self there. In fact, this situation probably just went from bad to worse. Fuck. Other Dean doesn’t even look unhappy to catch Cas straddling Dean’s lap.

Cas doesn’t bother getting off Dean’s thighs, just cranes his neck around so that both Dean’s can see his face at once. He smiles and it’s wide and warm. “You’re back early.” Dean’s surprised because it sounds like genuine affection in his voice and that… that shit’s just not right.

“Lemme guess? Other me is a quick draw?”

Dean can’t help but tense up at that and Castiel grips his hair tightly and yanks. “Down boy.” He turns his attention back to Dean’s alter. “I would love to hear all the details.”

“There are no details,” Other Dean says and his voice is cross, petulant.

Castiel frowns. “Why not?”

Other Dean points an angry finger at Dean. “Because his fucking brother is there all the time. _All_ the fucking time.”

“You mean during all the good fucking times?” Castiel chuckles at his own words and Other Dean huffs wryly.

“Pretty much. I’m getting cockblocked by Sam Winchester. Dude never fucking leaves us alone! Jesus. I can’t believe I was ever sorry he’s dead.”

Dean has never been so grateful to be cockblocked by Sam. He almost closes his eyes in gratitude. Thank you, Sammy.

“You managed to ditch him to get here,” Castiel shrugs.

“Yeah, because I said I was going for a walk. _I_ can leave anytime I want. I just can’t get him to leave me and the angel alone with a bed.”

Another casual shrug and the black t-shirt fabric slides over the dark angel’s shoulders, riding up slightly on one hip exposing a flash of flesh. “It’s not like you really need a bed. We hardly ever use a bed.” He pauses to think about that. “In fact, we do _very_ well without a bed.” The look he gives Dean’s alter… like the angel is hungry and horny at the same time.

“Maybe if the other you wasn’t so fucking clueless. But something tells me he’s not gonna just let me fuck him up against the Impala like you do.” He pushes his hand through his hair in frustration. “Christ almighty! I tried to give him the ‘c’mon, let’s get outta here and fuck’ look…”

“With the eyes and the lip thing?” As he asks, Castiel’s tongue darts out and suggestively licks his own lip quickly. And fuck, Dean didn’t even know his tongue could do that. _Not Cas_.

Other Dean spreads his hands and gives him a look that says ‘Of course.’

“And?” prompts Castiel.

“And he asked me if I was sick.”

Castiel can’t help but laugh at Other Dean’s put out expression. Other Dean glares at him and then turns his green eyes to bore into Dean. “This is all your fucking fault.”

“What?”

“If you’d been a good boy and already fucked that angel, I wouldn’t have to work so goddamn hard at it. Virgins are too much fucking work.”

Castiel snickers and climbs off Dean’s lap. _Thank God_. The angel moves over to his consort and Dean can’t help but watch him move. It’s so strange to see him look so much like Cas but not be Cas. He moves like mercury; smooth, liquid, shiny. But explicit. Like he’s full of sex and it can’t help but ooze out of him.

 _Wrong, stop, no._

“Maybe we should show him what he’s missing.”

Dean swears there’s a ‘Danger’ button in his brain and it just got pushed hard. Except the ‘Danger’ button might be a little too close to the ‘Oh Fuck, Really?’ button, ‘cause he feels like he’s getting mixed signals here.

He sees his other self smile. “You always have the best ideas.” One hand goes up and around Castiel’s neck, the other settles on his hip and pulls him in with a sharp jerk.

“He’s a little shy,” Castiel breathes across Other Dean’s lips before he turns his head to look eyes with Dean. Who honestly should _not_ be staring. He turns his head and focuses his eyes on the wall and tries to think completely un-sexy thoughts. Hunting. Hunting is a good idea. He starts to catalogue monsters and how to kill them in his head.

“Shy Me! I love playing Shy Me,” he hears Other Dean exclaim. There’s a wet kiss sound and one of them, he’s really not sure who ( _it’s Cas, it’s totally Cas, he can fucking tell_ ) groans.

“I told him it was one of my favorite games too.”

You have to electrocute Rawheads, except fuck they have the word ‘head’ in their name and that’s bad. He grimaces and at the same time he can hear them both breathing heavy and he hears the shuffle of feet and then a loud clunk as one of them knocks into the dining table.

“Fuck you are impatient today,” Castiel groans out. Dean doesn’t want to close his eyes because it makes him feel vulnerable, like a really fucked up version of that game, _What time is Mr. Wolf_ , where you turn your back on the other kids and when you’re not looking, they creep forward. So he just keeps his head firmly turned to one side and if he happens to see, out of the corner of his eye, his alter self pushing Castiel down backward across the table, that’s not really his fault.

Castiel is lying on the table with his long legs dangling over the edge and Other Dean kicks them wider apart and steps in between them, roughly pushing Castiel’s shirt up to his armpits before he starts biting and sucking at the flesh of the angel’s chest. Castiel’s hands grab at the round globes of Other Dean’s ass and squeeze, pulling Other Dean toward the cradle of his hips.

“I’ve been trying to get into your pants all fucking day. All I could think about was ways to get you naked and under me,” Other Dean rasps. He crushes their lips together and it looks like he’s trying to swallow Cas’ tongue entirely. Not that Dean’s looking.

He’s really not.

Vampires. You have to stake vampires. Except vampires suck. Suck blood, yes, but suck nonetheless. And stakes are long. And hard.

He’s so fucked. And he really wishes he could think of another word, but he can’t. He just can’t. Not when he can see his Other self running his hands down Cas’ ribcage and chest, stopping to pull apart the soft denim at the button of the waist band. Other Dean pulls the zipper down slowly, tooth by tooth, watching Cas, who is in turn watching him back. Neither one of them is shy or awkward. They just stare at each other darkly, lustfully. They want each other and they aren’t embarrassed or weird about it. They know one other and…

Love?

That actually makes him turn his head and stop pretending not to watch and stare at them for a moment. They are frozen at a point in time; Cas stretched back over the table, head craned up to look at Other Dean, hands still cupping his ass, legs swaying lazily. Other Dean’s lips hovering over the angel’s belly button, hands curling around the waistband of the dark denim. He watches his dark alter smile, and Dean knows his own face, he knows that look and it isn’t just lust. It’s something more like a promise or vow. And it hurts a little to see the Other Cas smile back the same way, a smile full of desire and longing and affection. He’s surprised that it hurts a little. But then again, he’s not.

Other Dean finally breaks eye contact and his lashes flutter down as he kisses the angel’s stomach, flicking his tongue into his belly button. Cas exhales on a long groan and his head drops back, hitting the table with a loud ‘thunk’ but he doesn’t look like he minds. He threads his long fingers, ( _fuck he really does have long fingers_ ) through Other Dean’s hair. Other Dean tugs at the angel’s jeans, pulling and forcing the fabric off his hips and out from underneath his ass, leaving it pooling around his knees. It’s wrongfully mesmerizing to watch Castiel’s erection spring free and jut upwards. It’s the one thing that both Dean’s have their eyes on.

Other Dean leans over the turgid member and huffs out a breath of moist, hot air. When Cas’ hips jerk slightly, he pushes down hard with both hands, making the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex with the force he uses to snap the angels hips back down to the table. Dean can imagine ( _he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t_ ) that Other Dean can use a lot, if not all of his strength and not worry about hurting the other man ( _not a man, more than that_ ).

Other Dean licks at Castiel’s cock almost delicately, hands still pushing down hard on hipbones, leaving white and coral pressure marks. The pointed edge of his pink tongue darts out, teasing at the head, flicking around the edges and then pressing into the slit. And the sounds Castiel is making… Even if he shut his eyes there would be nothing to block out the sounds. Drawn out moans and pants mixed in with the occasional grunts as Other Dean continues his precise and intricate lapping.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Castiel forces out, punctuated with a sharp yelp of pleasure as Other Dean nips at the tip of his cock gently with his teeth. The angel pulls hard at Other Dean’s hair.

“You can punish me later. I’ll wear them while you do it, if you want.”

 _Wear what?_

“Fuck, yes.” Castiel manages to make both words sound like they have more than one syllable as he groans them out.

Other Dean pauses for a moment to lick the length of his hand and then wraps it around Castiel’s dick and gives it a few hard, sure pulls before he leans over and takes the entire length into his mouth.

Jesus. He can’t even think ( _don’t think don’t think_ ) about how often his alter must have done that to barely register a gag reflex.

Castiel’s back arches hard, leaving space between his spine and the table and Other Dean slams him back down again. If they’re like this all the time it’s a good thing Castiel isn’t mortal. He’d be black and blue.

He’s trying not to look. Okay, if he’s honest with himself, he’s not trying all that hard. It’s like watching your own fantasy come to life in front of you. Things he swore to himself that he hadn’t thought about doing to Cas and now it’s like he’s watching himself do them. Sucking, pulling, pinching. Cheeks hollowed out, watching Cas writhe on the table, the old wood making obscene creaking noises under the weight to match the moans coming out of the angel’s mouth. Cas’ hands are fisted in his alter’s hair and Dean knows, _he knows_ , it would feel exactly like how he tells himself he’s never imagined it.

Castiel’s hips are jerking upward but now, Other Dean is letting them. He’s letting the angel fuck his mouth, humming around his cock, letting saliva dribble down. Castiel gets maybe four or five hard thrusts in before Dean presses down with all his weight and pins the angels pelvis to the table. He drags his mouth off Castiel’s cock slowly, finally releasing it with a slight ‘pop’ sound. Pre-come is oozing from the tip, running down, mixing with spit and Other Dean just grins at the razor-sharp sound that Castiel makes, a high pitched needful whine.

“You know what I want,” Other Dean whispers, loud enough to be heard, as he rubs circles over Castiel’s hip bones with his thumbs. Other Dean rocks his body in slightly, his chest rubbing up against Castiel’s cock and Cas exhales with a loud punch. In a flash of moment, the angel flips himself, up and over, folding in half carefully over table, mindful of his still swollen dick, with his chest pressing against the fine grain of the wood. His round ass is displayed marvelously, slightly flushed with exertion and friction. His face is pushed into the flat surface, his eyelids lowered as he tries to see his Dean standing over him.

“Ask me for it,” Other Dean commands, stepping in behind Castiel and rubbing himself against the angel, like a cat at a scratching post.

“Fuck me.”

Dean watches as his other self holds back a shiver of lust, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw slightly as he remains stock still. Other Dean places one hand beside where Cas’ face is against the table, then his other hand on the other side and bends over carefully, not touching him at all.

“Beg me for it.” His lips are _thisclose_ to touching the soft cartilage of ear, but not quite.

Castiel lifts his eyes and looks directly at Dean, still tied to his chair and he smiles. It’s obvious he enjoys the game they play, and he’s determined to make Dean even more uncomfortable than he already is.

Because that’s all he is. _Uncomfortable_. Although if he was forced to swear to it then he would jump back just as he finished the vow so as not to get struck by a bolt of lightening. Fuck it, he’ll probably get struck anyway with the thoughts he’s having. It’s like the two of them are dialed right into the sex part of his brain. He swallows hard and sees Castiel’s eyes immediately dart to his throat and the look he gives then can be described in one word: knowing.

And now they’re both staring at him, and fuck that’s even worse. They both have that stupid knowing look on their face. Licentious, lewd.

Not taking his eyes off Dean, Other Dean manages to grab a handful of Castiel’s hair and wrench his head back a little. He finally turns his face to again rasp in the angel’s ear.

“I don’t hear anything yet.”

Cas just smiles. Fucking smiles as he keeps his blue eyes locked on Dean.

“Please, Dean,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. And he’s talking to Other Dean but he’s still looking at Dean.

“Please what?” The question is punctuated by another harsh hair pull.

“Please fuck me.”

Those words should not be allowed to come out of Castiel’s mouth, any Castiel, his or otherwise without a goddamn fucking warning label. _May Cause Spontaneous Human Combustion_. Especially when he’s looking at him with those eyes.

Other Dean moans at the words and Dean feels the sympathetic resonance in his chest. Dean watches him fumble in his pocket, pulling out a tube of lube and it occurs to Dean that he has it in his pocket because he’s hoping to use it on Castiel. _Dean’s Castiel_. Not that he’s Dean’s anymore than Dean is his, but dammit! That’s his angel in the ridiculous trenchcoat that is totally conspicuous no matter where they go. _Dean’s_.

His dark alter squirts a moderate amount on his fingers and starts to rub it into Castiel’s ass, teasing, tempting and although Dean can’t see exactly what’s going on he knows _exactly what’s going on_. He wouldn’t call himself straight or gay or even bi, ‘cause it’s just dumb to slap a name on it. He just likes who he’s with when he’s with them and that’s it. He’s been with guys before and so he knows exactly what Other Dean is doing with his fingers out of sight between the cheeks of Castiel’s firm ass.

And Castiel won’t stop staring at Dean. He’s making those ‘unf’ and ‘ngh’ noises and he won’t fucking stop staring. Even when Dean looks away, he knows Castiel is still staring at him.

“Please, Dean, now. Please.”

He hears Other Dean chuckle. “You’re an impatient fuck aren’t you.”

“You know I am. Fuck me, fuck me now.”

“Yeah? Will you tell him what he’s missing?”

“Maybe you should tell him what he’s missing.”

He hears another zipper, and the rustle of fabric and soft, wet sounds and he knows Other Dean is sliding lube over his cock because that’s what he’d do. He’s so hard in his jeans it fucking hurts and he really doesn’t want to be, he really wishes that he could turn off the input signals from his eyes and his ears. Because even though his brain is saying _bad, wrong, don’t_ , his dick has an entirely different set of wiring and since he’s not being hurt and he’s not in pain, his cock is pretty much sitting up and begging _let’s go, let’s go_.

He hears Other Dean snap his dick deep into Castiel and he thinks a small grunt might have punched its way out of his lips, but he can’t be sure over the much louder, guttural sound coming from his alter and from the angel.

“Oh, fuck, _yes!_ ”

He’s really not sure which one of them said that.

The table is creaking under the pressure of Castiel’s weight and Other Dean slamming into him leisurely. Like he’s got all the time in the world to fuck him. If it wasn’t so absurd and disturbing watching his alter self fuck another Castiel, he really would have to give them credit, they are fucking amazing at this.

“This is what your missing,” he hears Other Dean say, his voice strained with pleasure and his breath coming out in loud gasps. He must be getting Castiel’s prostate just right because on every slow, languid thrust, the angel’s breath hitches in pleasure, his mouth open and eyes fluttering. “He’s so tight and hot and he loves it, fucking loves it.” Another few slow strokes. “You really should be watching, you could learn how he likes it. Tell him how you like it, Cas. Tell him how you love it.”

“I love it,” the words come out in a rush. “Fuck, I love it.”

“Hands on the table, Cas, don’t make me tell you twice.” The order is resolute and firm. “I’ll get to you. Don’t worry, baby. ”

Dean hears a groan of frustration.

“And that’s the problem with fucking an angel. They have no concept of patience with sex. Of dragging it out until you can’t stand it anymore.” Other Dean is _lecturing_ him. “If I let him have his way, he’d have come six times by now. Even though he knows, he fucking _knows_ my way is best. I make him come so hard he forgets his own name.”

Castiel gives a throaty, moaning laugh that trails off into a deep groan. “Please, Dean. I can’t… just let me… fuck… put your goddamn hands on my dick or I’ll kill you.”

“Is that what you want, is that what you really want?”

“Yes! Fuckit. Dean! Please!”

He doesn’t know what’s worse. When Dean was lecturing him and he had to just sit there and listen to it, or now when there’s not another sound anywhere to cover up their panting and cursing. Other Dean is far too involved now to string together a coherent sentence, and Castiel… He keeps moaning and grunting and each one of those sounds goes straight to Dean’s groin and he almost wishes the other him was still yammering on because then he wouldn't have to hear the sounds of slick, wet flesh on flesh. The rhythm gets faster and faster, the table is likely to give out under this kind of onslaught, and finally he hears Castiel shout his name and it just goes on and on until he hears his other self grunt and thank god, they’re done.

He’s still painfully hard in his jeans, but he’ll fucking take that if they’ll just stop clawing at each other.

He hears a soft kissing sound and without thinking, he looks over and sees Other Dean placing a succulent kiss across Cas’ top vertebrae. He mouths at the slightly bony joint for a moment and then drops his forehead to Cas’ temple and murmurs something in his ear that makes the angel chuckle slightly as Dean ruffles his hair softly. Castiel wraps a hand around Other Dean’s thigh and squeezes and give _his_ Dean this _look_. Adoration and devotion. Infatuation and lust all rolled into one flick of the eyes. Other Dean smiles and gazes back.

Dean knows he was meant to watch the exhibition, but that look, _that look_ was just for them.


End file.
